Outcast DOTA
by maskerade
Summary: The Rogue Knight Sven battles on, not knowing why anymore. Finished, pls rr


**Outcast**

**Part I**

The rain that falls over me is cold. Its wetness wraps about my body, its chill creeps through my skin. I feel numb, but not just of the cold. No, it is more than that I decide, as I stare at the three small mounds in front of me. They are unmarked; piles of earth dug in haste to place bodies in. They are the graves of my comrades. My friends. And I am the one that had buried them.

I look at them, memories flashing by my eyes, each one demanding attention, too much attention for me to properly give. My eyes rest on the Silencer's spot and I remember Nortrum's fall in battle, his face victorious after slaying the Tormented Soul, who discovered too late the loss of its powers after casting its final spell. That look of triumph had then twisted in pain when the Phantom Assassin cleaved him into two. Mangix, the Pandaren Battlemaster, had gone after the assassin, engaging it in a stunning duel. Never have I seen such skills before. They had seemed to be dancing more than battling. There were feints, strikes, counter-feints, rolls, and attacks that my own eyes had not been able to catch. All of which cumulated in Mangix's blade piercing the opponent's chest. The Phantom Assassin had slid to ground, choking on her own blood. I had thought it over then. Mangix had believed it so as well. He wrenched his sword out of her body and had started to walk away. None of us saw the flick of her wrist. But we both saw the dagger in the Pandaren's side. I had cried out, I remember I did, and had seen the surprise on Mangix's face.

"Ah damn," I heard him say before the Pandaren collapsed to the ground. I ran to him then, holding his body, begging for a way to aid my fallen friend. But it had been too late, the poison had done its job and the invincible Pandaren Battlemaster was no more.

Another memory blazes in front of me and I see Aiushtha's mischievous smile. The Dryad had been the youngest of company, the most innocent, and the most courageous. She had been such joy to us, to me, that to see her body lying on the battlefield, so badly mauled, so mutilated… I had fallen to my knees then, touching her ravaged face tenderly, wondering why the Heavens had been so unkind to one such as her. I saw the many still bodies of ghouls around her, noting with a sense of surreal satisfaction the body of a giant spider nearby, a spear through its body. A large beetle-like creature lay beside it, unmoving as well, the light faded from its many eyes. The Dryad had fought bravely against such odds. I should be proud.

_She is dancing with Cenarius now_, I think and wonder once more what all of it is for. _The Princess!_ my mind scolds and the heart aches even more. I have placed my life, my entire company's lives, on the line for people that do not care for our existence. We are the outcasts, the ones that had slipped through the cracks of the world. I lead my comrades to battle for money, as I had led men to battle for honour before. For her. But circumstances have changed now. There is still honour somewhere, and I have always stuck to the code. But it is different now. Now I have fallen. Now I am the vanquished God, the wretched taker of souls. Now I am the Rogue Knight. And still I fight to protect my kingdom.

"Sven," a voice pierces through the torrent of rain. It is soft and low-key, but there is tension underneath its gentleness. If I turn around now, I will see nothing but rain and darkness. But I do not worry, for it is how Gondar, the Bounty Hunter operates. And I do not turn around. Nor do I answer. My thoughts are still aflame with images, my heart struggling with the emptiness, the unfairness that threatens to unhinge me. Their faces revolve about me, Mangix, Nortrum and little Aiushtha.

_Why them? Why damn you?_

"Sven," comes the voice again, more urgent this time, "the Scourge have arrived. Leoric's forces, eight hundred strong, maybe more. They come from the East as we've predicted but there are no reinforcements. Only the token fifty men that bastard Ghersom gave us. It will not be enough. Even Lina cannot hold them for long. We need you Sven. We need your blade." With that, the presence is gone.

I glance at my sword. It stands next to me, impaled to the ground. A monster of a weapon that few are able to wield. Handled properly, it will cleave through anything before it, even Valerian steel. My blade had been forged by the greatest blacksmith in the land. It is my other half, my soul. It is _Justice_.

I am tempted to lift it. But for what? Why protect a kingdom devoid of honour and heart? Why sacrifice lives for a lost cause?

_For the girl silly!_ Aiushtha's voice chides, She's _the one that keeps you strong isn't she?_

I smile coldly. _That she is_, I answer, and grip the hilt of _Justice_.

"But now, it is revenge that strengthens me," I say to my comrades. Already, I can hear the sounds of battle. Distant explosions punctuate the air. I take my sword, ripping it from the ground, before walking away.

I do not turn back.

**Part II**

I am on elevated ground and can see the war that rages away from me. I see the approaching ghouls, the advent of blood sending each one into a crazed frenzy. The front ranks run in a broken line, easy pickings for cavalry. But we have no cavalry. And they are so many.

On the other end stand fifty of the King's soldiers, clad in their light armour. I am impressed by their presence. I had expected them to flee but their courage must have held out. But it is still foolishness. Light infantry against hungry ghouls. Fifty against a tide.

_There should have been more! _

We had advised King Ghersom on the situation! We had warned of their coming from the East and not the middle, where the towers still had strength! No, the Scourge would come from the backdoor, sacrificing forces to cross the treacherous paths, to reach the Eastern flank unchallenged! But the King had his own counsel, and they had advised him otherwise. Now we have fifty men. And they are all going to die.

I feel the air crackle and watch as the brilliant fire-bird soar through the sky only to crash into the coming ghouls. The force of the explosion throws the first few ranks into the air and many of those that have landed do not move again. It seems Lina is at the helm as Gondar said. My eyes scan for her… there! Standing alone just in front of the infantry; a Goddess clad in striking blue. Lina Inverse is one of the continent's most powerful sorcerers and her spells wreck devastating havoc upon her enemies. She had joined my company for the money, but had become attached to us soon after. We in turn had enjoyed her insight on matters, her humour and definitely her large arsenal of spells. I now see her arms raise, an orange ball forming above her. Her lips move, the ground shakes, and Hell opens. Columns of flames leap out of the earth straight to the sky, engulfing many of the enemy in fire. I watch them writhe and screech before dying in ashes. But more take their place and the charge continues. Another bird flies into the front ranks. More die but momentum does not slow. And Lina is tiring now, her movements staggered, her spells weaker. The ghouls are almost upon her and I see several Scourge generals with them. There is the dark Venomancer with the giant Lifestealer looming beside it. The Demon Witch follows behind them. I see them all run for Lina and can do nothing to help her. I am too far, and have my own agenda to keep. I grip my sword tightly as they descend upon her, all wanting the kill. Lina faces them, impassive, without fear. She stands beautiful. Her mouth whispers her words of power.

Then Gondar appears in front of her, as if by magic. It is one of his many skills, this ability to disappear into the darkness. He is a mysterious creature, a man that had tried to kill me in his days as an assassin. I had defeated him and custom dictated I take his life. But I had refused and had given him freedom. Now he travels as my closest companion. A trusted friend who strikes in the night. While I am the torch of honour, he is the shadow that finishes what I cannot bring myself to do. He takes on my sins. He is that kind of person. Even now, as he rushes into certain death, he does not complain.

He merely kills.

The Bounty Hunter's hands reach out and silver flashes across the field. The nearest ghouls fall instantly as small shuriken – serrated stars of sharp blades, slice into their ranks. Without pause, he whips out two short swords from behind him, and leaps at the Venomancer. The Venomancer fires out a bolt of pure acid but misses the nimble fighter. The ground behind Gondar sizzles to black but the man ignores it. He charges the Venomancer, the first sword stabbing into the creature's eye and the other neatly running across its throat. He whirls about, taking his sword out of the monster as the Venomancer collapses dead.

The Demon Witch, upon seeing his ally die, cries out. A trail of spikes emerge from the ground, stabbing the Bounty Hunter's feet. The man falls and the monsters close. But just as they reach the downed man, waves of fire burst from the ground around Gondar, forcing the Scourge back. Using the advantage, Gondar jumps to his feet and bursts through the flames, his swords reared to attack. The Demon Witch sees only a blur before a blade severs the head from the neck. With the two Scourge generals dead, both Lina and Gondar turn their attention to the Lifestealer, who runs at them unafraid. Gondar leaps at the monstrous ghoul but it swats him away easily, sending the Bounty Hunter sailing through the air. He lands heavily several feet from them. Lina faces the Lifestealer alone now. She casts a weak fire-bird at it but the ghoul shrugs it away. It approaches. And then, battle cries sound through the air. Fifty light infantry collide into the ghoul, their spears thrusting against the monster. Many of the spears break upon impact but some still manage to pierce the Lifestealer's hide. The soldiers have drawn their swords now, which look like toys when compared to the immensity of the ghoul. They poke at it bravely.

But futilely.

I see the Lifestealer's arm sweep across the ground, crushing half of the fifty in a single blow. Still the men advance, uncaring of the circumstance, determined to take down this creature of obscenity. There is a flash of silver and Gondar charges into the fray. Even Lina attacks, casting smaller bolts of flame at it. The Lifestealer rears back and reaches out with its claws again. More men die but still they fight on. Then its movements slow. It is tiring. Blood gushes from the many wounds it has acquired. Another bolt of fire crashes into its face and it roars, the sound reaching even my ears. Gondar strikes at its legs. The infantry attack its flanks. The Lifestealer roars once more as its legs give way, its huge body crashing to the ground. It tries to stand but cannot. It attempts to make a final, desperate break but cannot. Then it moves no more - a hulk that lies alone, bristling with broken spear points. There is a ragged cheer before cries of battle sound again. The victors have no time to celebrate. They turn instantly, their swords already hacking into the enemy lines as the Scourge advance once more. There can be no respite.

**Part III**

The scratching of claws on ground alerts me of their presence. I tear my gaze from the few heroes left standing and focus on the path to my left. The Scourge have taken this route as expected. The din of moving beings grows louder before the first hideous face pokes over the horizon. Then another. And another. More follow and it is not long before the mass of them trudge up the road. There are perhaps a hundred of them, each one more vicious than the last I think. I see the Lycanthrope, the mythical wolf-man, loping alongside them. I stare at the monster, Aiushtha's face appearing before me. It must have been the one who killed her; who had disfigured her body so. It will be dealt with but there is another I crave more. I desire the one beside the Lycanthrope. He rides on his armoured midnight charger.

_The traitor. _

I see the man in the bogus gold and crimson and my heart hardens. His name is Nessaj, the Knight that serves the Chaos God Mithras with the blood of slain innocents. He is rightly named the Chaos Knight.

_And I once called him Brother. _

The man had been my second-in-command before my fall. And we had been close, forging a tie stronger than blood. We had been brothers-in-arms and my trust in him was absolute. Then I was ousted by the nobles but before leaving, had made him promise to uphold the Code and defend the nation. Not long after, reports of the Scourge forces had reached the King's ears. The King had sent Nessaj to oversee the defences. The man had left the kingdom, never to return. Instead, he had joined the enemy forces, taking with him secrets and magical treasures. He had returned, leading an army of bloodthirsty Scourge forces, sacking two towns and killing all who lived within them.

And now here he is, waving a sword of fire above his head. His howls urge the ghouls on as they set themselves into a full-on run. But they are still far and I take my time to prepare. I swing _Justice_ several times from side to side, loosening muscles, regulating my breathing. I choose my stance carefully, digging my heels into the soft earth. The rain has stopped but the ground is now slick. It is easy to lose footing here.

As the ghouls race up to greet me, I see several of them slip and fall, colliding into the ones behind them. The make-shift charge falters and almost stops, if not for Nessaj's threats and spurs. Still, as the Scourge forces pick up momentum again, I smile to see them lose some of their spirit and become more wary of their steps. Good. Hesitation will aid me.

They are almost upon me, barely fifty feet away and closing fast. I move into my stance, _Justice_ held to my right side, its tip pointing downwards and back.

Thirty feet now.

I slow my breathing even more and focus on the burning in the pit of my stomach.

Ten. Five feet.

_Only a hundred! They must think me weak!_

The first ghoul leaps at me and I swing.

_Justice_ crashes into the first few ranks, killing the front ghouls instantly. My right hand releases its grip as I bring the blade up to my left shoulder. With a cry, the sword sweeps down in a horizontal line, sending broken bodies flying. I finish the move with a full-arced swing that cleaves through everything _Justice's_ edge touches. There is no defence against _Justice_. Not the thickest hide. Nor the strongest armour. Only death follows.

Something flies at me and I raise the blade instinctively. There is a resounding clang, as a large hammer crashes into the flat of my sword. I am knocked back but still manage to stay upright. I lower the blade to see Nessaj's warhorse charging at me. It veers a little to the right, Nessaj leaning to the side, sword raised, determined to decapitate me in the first pass. I drop to one knee, eyes steadily following the horse's movements. Just before it reaches me, I thrust out _Justice_ with full force, its tip catching the horse in the chest. Waves of fire burn across the nerves of my body from the impact, but my sword arm holds true. Immediately, I side-step to my left, bringing the blade with me, and run by the beast. The sword tears through the horse's flank, slicing flesh, muscles, even bone. It plummets to the ground instantly, rider and all. I turn around and with sword in tow, stride to the fallen knight.

Something slams into my body. Claws rake across my back, ripping through vulnerable flesh and it is all I can do to bite back a cry. I twist away quickly, trying to discern the assailant as I move. There is a blur of black before another attacker rams me. This time, I fall and suddenly, I find myself facing twin sets of serrated teeth, each striking at me with unparalleled ferocity. Only _Justice_ stands between these jaws and me. And I am losing my grip.

_No! Not like this!_

"Bloody puppies!" I cry out and jerk the blade up. The blow hits the monsters hard and they retreat in pain. I get to my feet and see, finally, two wolves cloaked in shadow. They are the size of the lions in myths, and are certainly much more versed in the rending of enemies. They have by now, shaken off my attack and study me with their red eyes. Growls issue from their phantom throats. I watch them warily.

There is movement to my left and I swing. The reddish Lycanthrope ducks under my clumsy attack and reaches out with its own claws. They tear at my skin, just inches away from causing more serious damage. I step away just as the wolves leap and the blade rises desperately. _Justice_ strikes the first wolf in mid-jump; it disappears as smoke vanishes. But the second one finishes its descent and barrels into me at full-speed. Teeth stab into my arm, like thousands of knives. This time I do scream and with my free hand, punch the animal viciously. The wolf lets go and I back away from it. My right arm throbs from the killer bite and the pain is excruciating.

I laugh - one that chills the bones.

"Come here boy!" I taunt and run at the beast. The wolf reacts that instant too slow and my sword rams into its maw. It dissipates.

_Behind! _

I whirl madly about, the sword singing through the air, slashing the Lycanthrope as it retreats from its impulsive strike. It howls in agony and cradles its stump of a left hand.

"These are the perils of battle Wolf!" I say.

The Lycanthrope stares at me with such obvious hatred. "Your flesh is mine Human!" it says with rabid malevolence, "And I will kill all that you hold dear! Just like that small Dryad, I will tear their skin from their bones and the taste will be sweet!" It ends the tirade with another bloodcurdling howl, before rending its claws into its own chest. I watch in morbid fascination as it rips away the skin above, exposing crimson muscles beneath. I understand its motives. The Lycanthrope is shape-shifting – changing into its ultimate form. It will become so much stronger and faster. A killing machine that will whip itself into a massacring frenzy. It will become almost invincible.

I take a step forth, _Justice_ flying low. It cuts the creature at its right thigh, slicing through easily, sending the top half up and away before plunging to the earth heavily. Its mouth is still open in surprise, its single hand still stuck within its chest in mid-transformation. I walk to the legless creature.

"You are strong only after you change. Not before," I say, positioning my sword over its chest.

"I…su…surren…der," the wolf-man gasps through the pain.

"I know," my voice hardly wavers as I plunge the blade deep into its guts. The Lycanthrope screams and I immediately wrench the blade out. I take a breath. And stab again. Once more. Once more.

The Lycanthrope begs for mercy weakly as brackish blood spills onto the grass, mixing with the rain water in a swirl of scarlet. Then there is a shudder as the creature takes its last, agonizing breath. Then there is nothing more.

I wrench _Justice_ from the body, sure of the grin plastered to my face. Yet my fire is not quelled. It is not over.

A song in the air hums towards me.

I turn at the last moment and the fiery weapon crashes into my own. The attacker relaxes his hold and pulls away. And I see him, his golden helm cloaking his face in shadow. Yet the moonlight reveals a similar madness on his face and his unearthly eyes speak of arrogance.

_Dare you face me?_ They challenge.

"You are a dead man," he says in a low, guttural voice.

I can feel the heat burst from my guts to my throat; a bubble of insanity and grief that tugs at the vocal chords. It is a cry that must be heard and I let it out.

"NESSAJ!" I roar, and revenge begins in earnest.

**Part IV**

Apart from the initial fervour, the actual duel is conducted in relative silence. The ghouls have long marched past me, intent on the palace for the prize. I care not of them. A hundred ghouls cannot storm Ghersom's gates without a leader. As for us, the warrior knights, we study each other warily, looking out for the nuances of muscle movement or the tell-tale signs of the rush. I have learnt not to view Nessaj lightly. The man is larger than me, yes, and I am definitely the quicker among us. But his bulk is made of pure muscle, and I know from experience his skills with the blade. Placed with his surprising level of agility, Nessaj is a dangerous opponent indeed.

The man crouches low and springs forth with alarming speed. There! The first rush! And too fast for me to utilize my weapon properly. The flaming sword snakes out, aimed for my neck. I fall back, the blade just missing its mark. I flail out with my left fist and see it hammer into the man's forehead. He stumbles back and I surge forth. _Justice_ swings and Nessaj brings up a desperate defence. The blade crashes into the fiery weapon, throwing the weakened Chaos Knight into the air. He crashes onto the ground but gets up immediately. He charges at me. I stab my sword out but the wily fighter deftly side-steps it before executing a stunning riposte at my exposed flank. I leap away from it, tripping onto the ground just as he had done.

I roll to my feet and watch him approach. He stops a couple of feet out of Justice's range and lowers his blade. I do not react.

"Will you not ask me why?" Nessaj rasps finally. His tone is accusing, and curiously, sounds hurt to my ears. "Do you not desire to know why we are crossing swords this day?"

"It does not matter," I say after a pause. And indeed, it doesn't. There once was a time where I had wondered how a sworn brother of mine could have betrayed everything we had fought to protect. I once had thought of reasons to justify his actions. But then it had dawned on me. Whatever the reason, Nessaj had joined the Scourge and betrayed his people. There could be no other way.

"It does not matter," I reaffirm, hoping to end this matter shortly. But Nessaj seems eager to talk now. His blade is still set in a defensive stance, but he shows no sign of attacking.

"You know of the Bierthorn Massacre?"

I hesitate, then nod.

"Those were my Knights that perished there. I was sent to Bierthorn with a hundred Knights. We were supposed to attack a rebel outpost. I was given information of their numbers - less than two hundred strong and poorly armed. It should have been an easy victory. So we rode into Bierthorn, careful but confident."

Nessaj's voice rose. "We were ambushed. From all sides. They surrounded us in minutes. There were four hundred infantry, with a hundred archers. They had steel swords and shields; their arrows pierced our armour. We were wiped out almost to a man. Less than eight of us survived that night.

"What was left of us escaped back to the kingdom to seek aid. But rather than providing me with an army, Ghersom condemned my failure, ridiculing me in public. In a week, I was relieved of my duties. In a month, my lands were stripped away, my treasury confiscated and my life considered forfeit. I realised then, that I was supposed to have died in Bierthorn. It was politics that had killed my Knights. And just as it had destroyed you Sven, it was coming for me as well."

Suddenly, Nessaj grabs his helm and throws it to the ground. The moonlight exposes his face and I stand stoically silent at the sight. His face, never handsome before, appeared monstrous now. The skin took on a leathery tone and was tight across the skull. His ears were pointed and his nose resembled that of a bat's. His eyes were yellow. And across his face is a long ugly scar. It is this he points to with a gauntleted hand.

"I found my wife and son at my home, on the floor!" he raves, "Blood flowed from them and they moved naught! Four men stood over them, swords in their crimson hands! I slew them, but not without injury! Bleeding and betrayed, I stormed the treasury and killed the guards. I then stole the Demon Edge, before leaving the kingdom. It was there I joined Mithras' order. They betrayed me first Sven! They did this to me! They forced my hand! This is my revenge!"

I watch his rage, taking slow breaths, resting my body. Then I reply.

"So this is your reason?" I say, my convictions set, "Does it matter?"

Nessaj blinks at my reaction, then laughs. It is an ugly sound, more of a wet cough than something decidedly of joy.

"Of course not Sven! Not for you and your honour! You and your blasted Code!"

"The Code is what I live by. It is what you lived by. And you broke it."

"Silence!" the man roars, "Do not judge me you whoreson! You can never understand!"

"No," my voice is calm, "I can never understand the acts of evil men. But you burned down two settlements. You killed innocents."

"Who is innocent in this world Sven? Who in this place is innocent? This kingdom is foul! It must be brought to its knees. Ghersom must be shown what justice is!"

"And there will justice. But so many people have died because of your treachery. I have lost friends in this mindless war."

"Then you shouldn't have come! Who are you fighting for?" Nessaj spits.

"You know who. You know why. For your loss, I pity you. But you have broken the Code. You, a Knight. You have murdered innocents. And for such evil, I must kill you."

Nessaj stares at me, his eyes blazing hatred, such hatred from somebody I thought of as a brother. "Then so be it," he finally says, raising the sword of fire again. "I thought you would understand."

He launches at me and I swing _Justice_ to the right. The man jerks back at the last moment. His timing is perfect, the blade cutting merely air. He dashes forth again, hoping to step by my guard. My leg shoots out, kicking him back before my sword comes in to his left. Nessaj sees the danger and brings his blade to his face just as _Justice_ reaches it. The impact flings him away but he lands on his feet this time. He stares at me once more and I notice a gash on his cheek. Then that laugh again.

"Your skill with _Justice_ is unparalleled Sven! I can barely keep up!" he exclaims, "Would be if I was as skilled."

"You cannot. I wield _Justice_ with my soul. Yours is corrupted; tainted beyond salvation."

"The soul?" Nessaj sneers loudly, "It is gone, that is quite true. But it is a fair trade. I lose something that cannot be of use to anybody. And I gain greater powers." His bright eyes narrow and a feral grin paints his face. He mutters something, words too low to hear.

"Powers," he continues, "such as this!"

I feel the presences immediately. My eyes glance to my left and right. They take in the scene but my mind refuses to believe it so. There, at my sides, stand two figures – figures that look exactly like the man in front me, sly and arrogant. I am sure he stands behind me as well.

_How is this possible? _

"A decent trick is it not?" he…all of them, say. They speak as one, four voices at the same time. The effect raises the hair on my neck.

"They are merely images! Illusions!" I counter.

"Of course," they reply cordially. Then they strike.

I sense the one behind me reaching first and whirl about. Steel slides upon steel and there is a second of shock at the full-sounding impact. But before I can recover, fire sears into my left shoulder. I cry out and pull away quickly. Another sword slashes my back as I retreat, forcing myself into a roll to escape being surrounded. I get up as fast as I can, eyes following the four fighters.

_They are real!_

And there are four of them. Can I battle with such wounds now? My lungs are aching and my muscles weary. They are many, and rested. I watch as they approach me slowly, their blades up in defence. Nessaj is no fool. Even with all the advantages, he proceeds with caution. I offer a grim smile, lifting _Justice_ and placing it lightly on my shoulder. There is only one way to defeat odds like that.

My run starts out slow, the many wounds I have sustained taking their toll on me. But as I move, I become faster and momentum carries me along. The four men come at me too, their flaming swords raised high above their heads. Then all too soon, they are in my range.

My weapon sweeps downwards and left. The first Knight ducks away but the sword catches the man behind him fully. The blade cuts through his armour like paper and the man disappears with a soft _pop_. A sword stabs at my face and I step back. Not enough it seems as the blade slides into the wounded shoulder. More fire. I almost black out, the world swimming in blackness for half a moment. With a yell, I ram the assailant fully with my uninjured shoulder. He falls back.

"DIE!" the cry comes from behind and I drop to my knees instinctively. The blade whips out and around, slashing at the voice's legs. He crashes to the ground and the subsequent strike ends his physical existence.

I rise, my blood up, the lust upon me. "Come at me!" I call out. They do. They attack together, one on each flank. I charge one, using the flat of my sword to knock aside a thrusting blade. My head slams into his nose and my knee thunders into his stomach. The man doubles over and I stab _Justice_ through his back, killing him in that anti-climatic _pop_. A sword hammers into my side but my armour holds up. I turn and attack wildly. The initial swipe misses and I realise too late what my recklessness has resulted. Nessaj's sword is almost at my throat. My left hand punches out and the blade sinks into the flesh, tearing into it. The pain is unbearable and I reply in kind, my voice already hoarse from the initial cries. But it halts the sword's descent. _Justice_ sweeps up, my right hand gripping the hilt tightly, and severs the arm neatly in its arc. There is blood, there always is, and the man pulls back, cursing. I lodge _Justice_ into the ground and with my good hand, grasp the hilt of Nessaj's burning sword. The flesh sizzles as I hold it but it matters little. I rip the blade out quickly with another grunt and throw the weapon away. A wave of dizziness hits me. I shrug it off and regain some form of balance. I look for Nessaj. He is kneeling on the grass, a hand pressing against the bloody right stump. Blood continues to gush from the wound. It seems a grievous one.

"I hate your damned Code," he says tiredly as I near. I stand before him but say nothing.

"Well then, this is the end." Nessaj faces the sky, baring his throat for his executioner, "Be quick."

I lift my sword up and breathe deeply. The woods are silent and the quietness stretches. Finally, I am ready. "You will die now."

The man nods slightly. Then says in a low voice, "You once said I was a good man, Sven."

"The eye must have failed us both then. You have fallen so far."

Nessaj laughs softly, "I suppose. So I might serve Mithras in the afterlife then. No rest for me it seems…" He is quiet once more.

"Goodbye Sven."

"Goodbye Brother."

_Justice_ sings.

The task done, I stand over the body. Memories threaten to overrun me as I try desperately to beat them back. Then one slips by my defences and I see Nessaj with his family on Winters Day. They are calling for me to join them in building a snowman. I refuse and we end up in a snow fight. There is laughter in the background.

"I understand more than you know," I whisper and walk away. I have had my revenge but as the stories go, it is unfulfilling. There is nothing left here now. There is only the single battle left and I must aid my friends. My body is still weakened from the blood loss and my left arm is totally crippled. I break into a run.

**Interlude**

I am Gondar the Bounty Hunter. And like many of the creatures in this realm, I listen and play the siren song of death. It cannot be helped. I am Draenei. My race excels in death. We revel in it. Draenei have no other role but to kill. We are trained as assassins since birth and I held my first shuriken at the age of three. Three years later, they disfigured my face with that same shuriken. And fire. All Draenei go through this ritual. Nobody recognizes us this way. We are unknown. We are only Draenei, always alone, never forgiven.

Until I was hired to kill Sven.

That fateful encounter had ended with my body on the floor, my weapons far and his absurd sword resting gently on my naked throat.

"You have lost," he had said.

"Kill me and be done with me," was my reply. Our lives had no meaning. To fail was to die.

He had stared at my prone form for a while, before revealing a strange grin. "I think not," he had said and withdrew the blade. He had pointed to his left eye, "My eye is magic. It can tell the goodness of a person. You do not seem that bad." He then started to walk away.

"Wait!" I had cried out, "If you let me live, I will come for you again!"

He had stopped then, and when he spoke, his voice bore a certain humour that even now, I cannot fathom.

"Then come with your best weapons," he had replied, "and we will cross blades once more." He had walked on, leaving me alone with my thoughts. Later in the night, I had returned to the baron that had hired me, and sliced his throat while delivering my report. I then joined Sven's roving party two nights later. I became the watcher in the shadows. I was his poisoned dagger. If assassins attacked him, he would defeat them. And I would hunt down the ones that summoned these killers, eliminating them and their families. It is the only way.

A ghoul swipes at me and I dance away, my left blade _Sange_ stabbing it in the eye. It falls and another takes its place. The right sword _Yasha_ slashes the creature's throat smoothly. I study the situation as my swords do their work. Even with the Scourge generals dead, the ghouls still seek our destruction. Our fighting party had been surrounded in mere moment and we are now battling for our lives. I glance at the infantry. Of the original fifty, only twelve are left standing. Fourteen, adding me and Lina. We have formed a fighting circle as the enemy push forth again and again. While Lina and I can still hold our ground, we are losing. Fourteen cannot fight many hundreds.

_Where are you Sven?_

A fireball crashes into the ghouls ahead of me, incinerating them instantly. My gaze drifts to the sorceress. She is beautiful. And her skills make her even more radiant. Unbidden, her words ring into my mind, her voice sweet and sure.

"_Will you not sit with us?" Lina said to me as she approached. It was a cold night then, and the party had decided to set up camp. All of them sat by the fire, exchanging food and stories, basking in obvious merriment. I had sat away from them, quiet, scanning the darkness for signs of danger. She appeared then, beautiful and proud, her face ever amused. _

"_These woods are known for danger," I replied, "I must be watchful. She stared at me for a moment, then gently sat down. She said nothing. _

_After several moments, I finally gave in. While silence was not new to me, women were an enigma. "What are you doing?" I had asked, my voice loud. _

"_Watching the darkness. These woods are known for danger." Her words frustrated me to no end. Women were such irritating creatures. An even longer stretch of silence ensued, only the distant laughter and night sounds filling the air. _

"_What do you want Sorceress?" _

"_Can I not sit here?"_

"_I do not like it!" I was surprised at the harshness in my voice._

"_Well, firstly, my name is Lina. And I will just ask a question. Answer it and I'll go." I could not help gazing at those eyes while she spoke. _

"_Why do you not sit with us? Are we not comrades?" It was an easy question, one that could be answered. I struggled to find the words. _

"_I enjoy my solitude."_

"_And yet we are a party and must know every member well. How else are we to trust each other? I know Mangix loves his ale too much, but he is a God in battle. Nostrum can be a pain at times with that self-love attitude of his, but his spells are dependable and his timing perfect. As for Aiushtsha… well, she is of use sometimes. Perhaps as a lure." Lina's laughter rang into the sky. It was a good sound. It died off but still the world felt to me a happier place. _

"_As for you," she continued, "I know you Hunter. You slip into the darkness to end the things Sven cannot allow himself to do. You are his hidden blade. You are ever-present and loyal. And you are good." Before I had realised it, she had positioned herself ever so near to me. _

"_You do not want me! I am a cursed man." I pulled away from her, uncomfortable with all this closeness. _

"_Does it matter?" _

"_What of Sven?" I said and instantly regretted them. Everybody knew of her infatuation with Sven. But Sven would not even acknowledge such love. _

_Lina stayed silent for a moment, then sighed sadly. "Sven… is of a different realm from us. He is an ideal. One that you and I… can never achieve. We are his allies, yes, but we can never be equals. His heart can never be reached by me Hunter. Only somebody purer, more noble than him, can hold his heart."_

"_So I am to be a second choice. It is an unwise one Lina!" _

"_But it is still mine own!" she snapped, her green eyes flaring dangerously, "My choice…" She moved nearer to me, her eyes locked onto mine, her lips so close. _

"_Now… kiss me," she whispered, "For I do not enjoy rejection so many times." I did then, my lips touching hers, my love for her threatening to explode. She pulled away all too soon and ran a finger across my scarred, burnt, ugly skin. _

"_Now hold me Gondar, for I am cold." _

_And I did. _

"Gondar! To the East! Leoric!" Lina's voice rings out, snapping me from this untimely reverie. I look to my right. And the nightmare appears from the front ranks of ghouls.

The name Leoric is one spoken in fear among many warriors. He is the Skeleton King, the demon that has never fallen in battle. Rumour has it that he can never fall. And I can see why. Roughly two heads taller than Sven, and sporting the girth larger than that of a bear, the creature is a colossus. He wears armour the black of shadows. They litter across his ivory chest, shoulders, arms and legs. His right hand wields an awesome curved sword the size of a man. His left holds a hammer of immense size. Even Sven will be hard-pressed to lift such weapons. And yet the Skeleton King swings them with ease. Still, it is not these armaments of power of which I am drawn to. No, it is his face… the face that one cannot help but fix upon. I am gazing at Death and he stares back coldly. Smooth white bone, with merely two hollows where eyes should be. I mentioned colossus and powerful. Leoric is an abomination.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see the last surviving soldiers banding together. One of them urges the others on and I realise what it is they plan to do.

"Back you fools!" I cry out but in their bloodlust, they can only hear the battle and roaring flames of hatred. "Back!" I try once again.

They charge.

And die as Leoric's hammer crashes into two of them. The others engage him bravely but their weapons do little to harm him. The Skeleton King's sword rises up and down, each swipe killing another one, two. Only five are left and still they fight. It is too much to bear. I run at them desperately. Another four have fallen by the time I reach them and the last one is certain to die. I give a yell and leap at the giant warrior. For all my small frame, the momentum of my jump gives me added strength when my body meets his, pushing him back, gaining his attention. Leoric regains his balance quickly and looks for this new enemy. He sees me and after a second of examination, speaks over the din of chaos.

"You are not Sven," I hear him say, his voice strong and calm. I stare at the monster and realise a simple fact – if Sven fights him, he will die. Even if Sven wins, a part of him will perish. Perhaps his heart, most probably his soul. It must not happen. I will not let it happen.

"And yet you will die under my blades!" I growl, lunging at him again. My right arm shoots out, _Yasha_ screaming. Leoric moves his own blade to counter the attack. Quickly, I spin about just as Leoric's hammer swings out at my head. It misses me by a fraction as I duck, then leap forth, both blades hammering into Leoric's chest. But for all the magical properties imbued into those swords, they merely bounce off the demon's breastplate, not even denting the black armour. I retreat, avoiding another clean sword thrust, and study the monster again. The Skeleton King notices my wariness and emits a sound which I can only guess is laughter. It is chilling, that holds no mirth within.

"Your skills are considerable. And you are very fast. Still, these blades cannot kill me," he says.

I smile grimly, then pounce. _Sange_ flashes from the left. Leoric's sword dips expertly, parrying the strike. Instantly, I dash to his side and whirl about. _Yasha_ snakes out, expecting to stab him in the back. It doesn't. Something hard blocks the attack, repelling it with ease. I stumble back just as Leoric turns around. He gives an overhead slash which I just manage to duck. Leoric's hammer thunders behind the initial strike and I raise my swords up desperately. It crashes into the make-shift defence. I hear a distinct crack. Pain flares up my right arm and I grunt as I fly off the ground. I try to twist in the air but the fall comes all too soon. I land on the ground badly.

A shadow falls upon me and I see the Skeleton King looming over my form. His sword is raised above my head.

_Damn you Hunter! Move!_

My body rolls to the side just as the sword impales the ground. I force myself into a crouch, the effort evident in the pain that courses throughout. My right arm is useless, pulverised in that last attack. I only have _Sange_ now, a tiny blade when compared to the massive weapons Leoric uses.

Leoric drops his shoulder and lunges forth. The sword darts at my neck. I move to avoid it but it will be too late. The sword travels up-

-and merely nicks the skin as the attack veers slightly to the left. I jerk away, completing my retreat. Leoric bellows in rage and turns to the distraction. Another bolt of fire slams into his frame. Then another. As I catch my breath, I glance at Lina, bravely shooting out whatever spells she can muster. Two large fire-birds speed towards the man, each one crashing into him with enormous explosions heralding their demise. The air sears with heat.

I look at Leoric. His body is on fire, flames lick every part, even the armour. And still he will not fall. He lumbers on, a walking inferno. But his bones are still white, unmarked even by soot. Then the flames die down. Leoric approaches the sorceress. She casts fireball after fireball but they do little to hinder his march.

"Useless," he says quietly. His left arm raises and there is a blur of silver.

"Lina!" I scream a warning. My beloved has seen the danger as well, her hands stretching out. They glow blue. Even amidst all the danger, my mind recognizes the spell cast. Around her right wrist is the grey Linken Sphere, an artefact that allows her to cast a shielding spell. It is a powerful spell. I have seen it turn away long arrows and spears, even magical energies.

The hammer collides into the invisible shield a foot from Lina. It floats there for a moment, emitting sparks. It then punches through the shield with incredible speed. The hammer crashes into Lina shoulder, knocking her back like a doll. She spirals in the air, like a grotesque dancer, before falling face-first onto the hard ground. I fear the worst but then she moves, ever so slightly. Leoric walks on.

_Do something!_

I charge the goliath, letting loose a raw cry of hatred and pain. I am five feet away when Leoric suddenly turns, his sword cleaving out. I sway to my left, drawing his attention. _Sange_ clashes against impervious bone. Gritting my teeth against my body's agony, I stand between Leoric and Lina. I grip _Sange_ tightly. He will not pass.

"You will protect the woman? There is no point in defending the weak," Leoric says, his tone almost quizzical.

"Just walk away then," I reply, "and I won't have to."

Leoric nods. "Admirable." His sword licks out and _Sange_ rises to parry it. The strike suddenly twists away from my block, moving expertly into a thrust. There is no more defence against it. I try to dodge. The blade's tip pierces my left shoulder, tearing through flesh and muscle, crushing bone. The pain is intense and it takes all my skill to leap away, ripping my body from the sword's kiss. After the retreat, I fall instantly to one knee. The world blurs and I feel weak. Blood is everywhere. It is all I can do to stay conscious, let alone fight.

The Skeleton King takes a step forward. "This is the end little ma-"

"LAGUNA BLADE!" her voice is rich and clear. The world is bathed in white as the lightning crackles from the Heavens; a white dragon that whips into Leoric's form with unparalleled ferocity. All I see after it strikes Leoric is a blanket of white, then the sonic boom of judgement thunders, then the shockwave crashes into me, almost knocking me down.

It is a while before my eyes focus onto the scene of devastation – the ground is cracked and sundered, many ghouls lay dead from the explosion. And Leoric sits in the midst of the destruction, kneeling, his sword fallen from numbed fingers. Smoke rises from his body. The demon stirs. But he is hurt. This is my chance.

I fight the fever of pain and stand.

Leoric tries to raise his head.

_Move damn you! Or we all die!_

I dash forward, fire in every inch of the body, darkness hovering on the edge of my vision. Leoric's head now rises fully but he is still stunned from the spell's impact.

Six feet. Five.

I jump, sailing over his body, landing behind him. Immediately, I whirl around, almost slipping on my own blood, keeping my balance. _Sange_ stretches across Leoric's left shoulder, the blade's edge curling around its thin neck. My ruined right arm reaches out to grab my left hand. I take a quick breath against the pain.

Then with all my remaining strength, I pull.

At first, nothing happens. I stand in limbo, almost blacking out. Still I hold on. Then there is a crack, an imperceptible chip. _Sange_ bites into this weakness viciously. Leoric, feeling danger, begins to rise.

"DIE YOU WHORESON!" I scream and grip even tighter. The effect is instantaneous. _Sange_ lodges itself firmly into the crack, splitting the bone. The cracks spread and sensing the opportunity, I use the last of my strength in an enormous tug.

There is a snap, and the bone finally breaks into many tiny pieces. I watch in morbid fascination as the Skeleton King's head falls off the body, landing on the ground with a soft thud. It rolls several feet and stops. The body, at first in the beginnings of a stir, moves no more. It is over. It is over.

I stagger away from the body, towards Lina's prone position. Every step takes effort but I do not collapse. I see Lina's face. Her face is smudged with soot and blood. Her eyes are bloodshot. But she is smiling and I think I do too. Why not? Leoric, the Skeleton King has fallen. Against such odds and we have prevailed.

_We have won! We have wo-_

The sword that pierces my chest is long, and curved. I watch the blade dumbly, not knowing what to do. I feel no pain. Just weakness. And I cannot breathe. Why can't I breathe?

My eyes flicker about, settling on the shadow at my left. It is a large hand of white. On it is a skull.

"You have killed me," comes the chilling voice from before, "but still I cannot die." Strangely enough, I feel his words are tinged with sadness. It is a surreal thought. Then the blade is ripped from body and the fire appears again. The world swivels, and drops. I find myself on the ground, blood flowing from… everywhere. I do not know if I cried out. My eyes struggle to focus as a dark form approaches Lina. She lies there still, crippled.

_No!_

Leoric positions himself over her, his cruel sword raised high.

_NO! _

She moves slowly in a feeble attempt to escape the monster. He watches her for a while, then rams the sword down. I hear a soft cry; I see her body jerk. Then she lies still. Her eyes are still open. They are so green. They are so empty. Now it is cold, so cold. And the world has become quieter. I do not see Leoric but for some unknown reason, I do not care anymore. I stare at my beloved's dead eyes as the world loses its colour. Even that fades from my memories. Only her name echoes in my mind. Only a name.

_Lina…_

**Part V**

_Duty To Protect The Weak_

_Strength To Vanquish Evil_

_Honour Is Life_

The Code has failed me. It has deserted me when I needed it most. This I realised when Leoric's blade pierced Gondar's chest. This I embraced when he impaled Lina to the ground. When I saw the two battle Leoric, I cried for them to retreat. To fight Leoric is to court death itself. One needs to die in order to kill him. But of course, my voice never reached them and they fought. When Lina stunned him with her most devastating spell, and when Gondar boldly decapitated the behemoth, for a moment, I knew relief. My friends would live! How wrong I was. And now I know the truth.

The Code is merely a lofty ideal. It is a useful ornamental shield when in peacetime, with its mentions of honour and duty. But in the dirty chaos of a meaningless war, it is as strong as paper in the wind. It hides beneath a façade of righteousness but that unveils itself as well. It dies in the face of despair and rage. And it is despair and rage that fuels me now.

I run, oh how I run, down the slippery slope, _Justice_ dragging behind me, leaving a streak of mud in its wake. My body is a mesh of wounds. My left arm all but destroyed. Still I run, breathing deeply as I do, my eyes focused only on the Skeleton King. If there is one thing remaining for me, let it be vengeance.

Leoric sees me, his right hand curled tightly around a massive blood-stained sabre. I recognize the weapon. The Demon Edge. A sword of the finest craftsmanship, it is imbued with the magical energies of four sorcerers. It is said that all to face it die – their souls eaten by the demon that lives within the blade. With it belonging to the Skeleton King now, I shall test the theory to the fullest.

There is an imperceptible nod from Leoric, as if an invitation to join this dance. In front of him, scores of ghouls advance upon me. I run faster, hatred giving me strength. They pounce at me, and I cleave them into pieces. My attacks are ferocious and nothing stands in my way to him. Five more strike out but die in mere moments. There is no finesse behind my strokes. It is merely sharpened metal bludgeoning into soft bodies. Only pure, mad rage guides my hand.

I near him, ten feet away. My right hand grips _Justice_ tighter. Then Leoric's voice carries itself to me.

"They died gloriously," comes the whisper.

I lunge at him, my sword circling over me in a tremendous arc. It crashes into Leoric's calm block, glancing off metal. He delivers an instant riposte at my chest. I sway to my right, bringing up _Justice_ in a quick backhand slash. It misses and Leoric easily pulls away.

I study the Skeleton King for a moment. He is a skilled swordsman, with almost God-like speed and ability. He is most certainly one to be feared.

_And he cannot die!_

"It seems Nessaj did have some skill after all. He was merely supposed to tire you. I did not expect him to wound you so," Leoric comments, "Still… I am glad you have come. You are the greatest fighter of your people. It is an honour to face one such as you."

His words sound sincere, which all the more engulf me in a murderous frenzy. The monster has killed all my allies. He has brought death to everything I have known. And now he is happy to battle me.

The red haze falls upon me once more. And once more I throw myself at him, this time stabbing out, using my weapon's reach to strike him. Leoric swats it away and jumps in, his sword lancing past my defences towards the throat. I roll and it misses its target by inches. I scramble to my feet. Leoric is already in front of me, thrusting out viciously. I block in desperation and the defence holds. I lash out to his left but it is parried away. Not caring if I do hit him or not, I begin a series of cuts and slashes. They come from top and bottom, from the left and right. Yet every move I make, every strike I produce, Leoric deflects them away effortlessly. My right arm is tiring and soon, I must rest.

Suddenly, Leoric drops his shoulder just as my latest attack bounces off his blade. With alarming speed, he charges, slamming his body into mine, sending me flying. I land on my feet, barely balanced. Leoric advances again, a lunge to the chest as he begins his own attack. I duck under it, trying to bring _Justice_ to bear. A knee collides into my chin and darkness collapses about me for an instant. Then the world comes into view again and I jump back immediately, flailing out wildly in my wake.

Leoric pauses. He stands still, staring at me silently. Then he speaks - his voice though cold as usual, carry strong contempt and disappointment.

"Is this it? This mindless hacking with that piece of metal? There is no sport in this. There is no _skill!_"

He takes a step forth, falling into another stance. "Will you not fight me properly?"

"Come here," I say, my tone ragged, "and I will promise you death."

The Demon Edge sings through the air. _Justice_ rises to meet it. The clash is enormous and the impact forces me to stagger back. Instantly, Leoric darts in, a boned fist thundering into my skull. I fall back, entirely stunned. I thrust out frantically, only to strike air. I struggle to regain my footing, my eyes scanning the surroundings for my foe. I can sense wetness trickling slowly down my left cheek. My head feels as if it had been used to break boulders. It pounds tirelessly.

Leoric remains where he is, unmoving once again.

"So this is the swordplay from your peoples' greatest warrior," he sneers, "It is pathetic. So be it. If this is all the fun I will have, I will end this without mercy."

"I have no people monster! You killed them all! As I will kill you!"

"Not you Sven," he replies quietly, "not you." His blade whips out with such speed and ferocity that I barely bring _Justice_ up in time to deflect it. The blow breaks my stance. He nears me quickly. I slash downwards, forcing Leoric into a block, then kick out. It crashes into his frame and pain fires up the leg. I back away but Leoric follows. I thrust. My leg slips. Leoric's sword strikes the blade.

_Justice_ flies from my hand, twirling in the air, clattering sadly on the ground too far from my reach. My face is still frozen in horror at the loss of my weapon when agony beyond anything ever experienced ploughs through my chest. It is fire. It is unbearable. I cry out unendingly, pulling away in reflex. Whether the retreat had been masterful, or if Leoric had simply ripped his sword out, I will never know. But I stand away from him, blood pouring profusely from the gaping incision in my chest. It is hard to breathe and dizziness assaults me mercilessly. I try to remain upright but cannot. I have no more strength. I fall to my hands and knees. Still I cannot breathe.

"You are dying," Leoric's voice slithers in, "Your lung has most certainly collapsed from that strike. Soon you will breathe blood, and drown in it. But I am kind Sven, much too kind for the likes of you. I will send you to oblivion like a true hero. It is my gift to you." He takes a step forth.

My mind races. It is examining the truth of Leoric's words. And the same time, it fights to keep me conscious. It is all I can do to remain like this. And the monster is right. I am dying. I can taste the copper and feel my strength leak away like water. There is a heaviness in my heart I cannot identify. I believe it despair.

_Ah but you are a sorry sight._ The voice whispers in my mind, mocking and arrogant. It is a familiar voice.

_Nessaj? How can this be? You are alive!_

_No Sven,_ it echoes, _I am but the result of significant blood-loss. A delusion if you must. You are dying. _

_Leoric has killed me. _

_It is pathetic Brother. _

_I tried to fight him… I tried and I failed. _

_You failed because you abandoned the Code. This Code you so zealously stood by._

_The Code failed me!_ Anger tinges my cloud of sorrow. _Who do I have to protect? There is nobody left! They are all dead! I have no more strength to give to uncaring people. I have not the heart… _

_And for this you surrender!_ The voice roars in my head. _And it is this man that I lost to! This is the man your allies gave their lives for!_

_Hate me all you want. It is over. _

_Oh yes Brother, for you it is over… but know this … when Leoric prevails, he will march upon Ghersom's castle with his army. The castle will fall, for nobody else can stand against him. Ghersom will die, and that is a good thing, but many countless others will perish along with him. Among them will be your precious princess, that gem of your heart, that soul of your soul! _

_Be silent!_

_Leoric will advance upon her. She will be raped, tortured, decapitated for all to see._

_Silence! _

_The ghouls will feast on her flesh. Oh what a feast!_

_SILENCE!_

Nessaj speaks no more. I glance up, noting Leoric strolling up to me, the Demon Edge hanging wickedly in his hand.

_You have the duty to protect those who cannot protect themselves_, says another voice. It is rough, but soft. It is Gondar's.

_You have sworn to battle evil in its forms. You believed in honour above your own life. _

_I am too weak._

_You are Sven_, Gondar's voice raises, _You are a Knight. You have your Code._

A dark shadow stretches over me. The moment is surreal.

_If you have not the heart, then trust in the soul! _

The Demon Edge touches my neck lightly, as if savouring the feel of skin. It is cold.

"Know that I take no joy in this," Leoric says stoically. The blade leaves my skin and is lifted high. Out of the corner of my eye, lying next to my right hand, I see a short sword of the purest ebony.

_My last gift to you Sven. _

The Demon Edge sweeps down.

Sparks fly as _Yasha_ struggles to contain Leoric's attack. My hand had snaked out to grab the sword in a reverse-grip, bringing it to bear just in time. But for all the weapon's magical powers, Leoric is a beast. And I am still weak. It is all I can do keep the strike at bay. My vision continually threatens to black out.

_Her flesh! They will feast on her flesh! _Nessaj cries out.

I yell out, all my rage, hatred and pain compacted in a single battle-cry. With this cry, I gain strength, I receive clarity. With this cry, I push out with all my might. The sudden surge of power forces him back. I use the moment, rolling away, keeping distance between us.

Leoric easily recovers his footing. He studies my resurgence. "You still have some fight left," he states, "It is pointless though. Your wounds are too great. You have not long to live." He starts forward again. Seeing this, I move away, keeping that distance between us. He nears. I retreat. It is a twisted cat and mouse game that darts forth and back. It is a game that is costing me. The dizziness hovers about, always threatening to overwhelm me. Darkness calls out to me. I try my best to ignore them, biting my lip to remain conscious. Breathing is so much harder, so much more painful now. It is like breathing shards of glass. They come in shallow gasps and many times, I have had to spit the brackish blood out. The Skeleton King runs at me and I jump back, circling the lumbering warrior, always watching our distance. He stops, and when he speaks, he finally reveals anger.

"Do you not dare face your fate coward? Will you die running away? Then I promise you this! When you finally fall from exhaustion, I will separate your limbs from your body. Your flesh shall be fed to the ghouls. I will march upon your people and slaughter them all! Men, women and children. All of them!"

I give a wane smile, blood flecks on my lips. "Can… you… not catch… me?" I wheeze. Leoric roars with such rage. He charges me, so fast, so ferocious. I move back.

And stumble.

Leoric roars again, this time in triumph. He is upon me in seconds, his arm out to impale me onto the Demon Edge. The charge is terrifying and unstoppable.

Not by me. And not by him.

My movements are quick and sure despite my wounds. My right hand gives a flick and _Yasha_ shoots out. Leoric turns the blade to deflect the attack. I fall onto one knee, my hand touching the ground. _Yasha_ bounces off the Demon Edge. My hand grips the hilt of _Justice_ lying prone on the earth. I twist my body, using whatever strength I have left, bringing _Justice_ up and over me in a massive arc. It whistles through the wind. Leoric sees the attack and tries to stop but his momentum hinders him. The wet ground yields too little friction. _Justice_ flashes past, a streak of silver, crashing into his right wrist, smashing the bone into fragments. The Demon Edge disappears. Instantly, I grip the hilt with my ruined left hand and gritting my teeth against the weight and pain, thrust out and up. I await the impact.

It comes. Leoric collides into the waiting blade, the force aggravating my wounds. I hold on. _Justice_ plunges into his breastplate, smashing the ribcage, shattering the insides. Then it pierces through Leoric's back in a shower of broken bone fragments. They fly everywhere, a small explosion of ivory. His run finally stops, his body now taking three-quarters of Justice's length. I let out a ragged breath.

_It is over. It must be over! _

The white hand of bone closes onto my face so quickly, its fingernails dig deep into my flesh. I scream as rivulets of blood flow down like tears. I shake my head in an attempt to dislodge the attack but it will not let go. Consciousness is about to leave me. I can feel it floating away.

Then his voice whispers in my ears.

"It is colder here than I had thought," it says gently, almost reverently. The hand relaxes and falls away limply. Finally, the awesome might of the Skeleton King vanishes and he sags upon the sword. It is heavy at first, then the weight lightens. I watch silently as Leoric's bones break apart into ash, mixing with the wind, a version of snowfall that touches my heart somehow. I do not know why. The dance of ash continues for a while before ending with Leoric's armour clattering loudly as they hit the ground. I release my death-grip on _Justice_, allowing it to dip. Now it has ended. Now perhaps I can rest.

A growl issues from my side. Then another. And another. The ghouls surround their prey, knowing it injured, determined to finish what they have started. Even without their leader, they have no fear. Not against one fighter already dead. I try to lift _Justice_ but instead burst into a bloody cough. The world wavers and the sword falls to the ground. I am on my hands and knees. A familiar position. And I am going to die. I raise my head, my eyes focused on one. Just one.

A ghoul lunges. My right hand sails out and grabs its face. It drops and my arms close onto its mouth. I tear its jaws apart, noticing the flesh of hands ripped by the monster's teeth. I smile grimly. Then face the approaching horde.

"So… w…ho's… next?" The ghouls back away a little, their faces reveal their puzzlement. How can somebody so wounded still fight? Then I see their resolve strengthen. They are many. I am but one. They screech viciously. They leap out.

A spear pierces into one's face. Another spear crashes into a ghoul's chest. More spears fly out. Then the thunder of hoofs sounds out from behind me. The ghouls are turning about now, desperate to escape. I glance around wearily. Brown and black speed past me in a blur. I hear the familiar sounds of armour upon beasts. I smell leather and horse hair.

_Cavalry._

The horsemen have arrived, but for a reason, I care not. I look ahead and realise the night has come already. The world edges into the usual blackness but there is a tiny speck of light ahead. I squint amidst the darkness. The light grows bigger. It is one I know, that flickers and sways like fire. And there are figures around it, shadows that become more substantial as I watch. My heart warms. I see the Pandaren sitting next to Nostrum, trying to entice the man to try out his latest brew. Nostrum makes a face after the tasting and Mangix is patting the man strongly on the back, all the while grinning broadly. Gondar and Lina sit in closeness. They notice me and stand, hand in hand. Gondar is smiling, his face still scarred and burnt, but his eyes radiate warmth and strength. Lina gives him a peck on his cheek, her eyes gleaming. Then a figure steps from the shadows into the light. He is tall, with a brutish face. He wears subdued brown leathers. There is a grin on his face.

"So that damned Code of yours held out huh?" He shakes his head as he says this, "Well done Brother."

I feel a hand in mine. I look down upon Aiushtha's elfin face. Her eyes are big and bright in the firelight.

"Stand Sven! Unless you're too old," she says cheekily. I get to my feet, feeling more rested in years. "Now come join us!" Aiushtha continues, pulling me.

"What of _Justice_?"

"You will not need it. You are home."

I look at the little Dryad's face. Then to the people around the fire. I give a quiet laugh. Home. Of course I am.

I take a step forward.

**Epilogue**

Davion trudged up the slope of Alabar Hill, already sweating in the afternoon sun. He had wanted to make the trip earlier, but the many customers at the store had kept him busy. It did not help that the crest of the hill was an hour away.

He smiled to himself. _But some things had to be done,_ he thought and wiping away the beads of sweat on his brow, he continued on.

Somebody was waiting for him at his destination. No, not waiting, he should not delude himself so. It was a woman, dressed in black and white silks that whispered in the wind. A white gelding stood patiently nearby. The woman was kneeling on the ground, her head bowed in prayer.

He walked towards her, curious to know who, other than himself, would make such a pilgrimage. His approach was noisy and the woman, alerted, turned to him. He saw her face. He dropped to his knees.

"I am sorry Your Highness! I did not know it was you!" he apologized profusely, all the time keeping his eyes to the ground.

"No no! Stand sir!" said the Princess hurriedly.

Davion raised his head and saw the Princess's face before him.

"Please," she said gently, "please rise sir."

He got to his feet slowly, unsure of what to do. A silence stretched in the heat.

"You are Davion? Of the Thirtieth Infantry?" asked the Princess.

He nodded, surprised at her knowledge. "I am Davion Giedre" he answered, "but am a soldier no more. I am merely a peddler now, selling trinkets to children."

"And the only survivor from the battle four months ago."

Davion flinched, the words hammering into his heart. He could still remember the blades and blood. He could still taste the fear. And he could still remember the heroes.

"Yes Lady, all the others died. They fought with such courage, I am honoured to have battled with them. I would have fallen too, if not for the Bounty Hunter. It was he who saved me. No… it was he who saved us all. He and the sorceress stood against the Scourge with their heads high, filling us with hope and strength. They died fighting the Skeleton King."

He turned to the six headstones placed there. They were the graves of the fallen heroes. The King had refused to give Sven's group a proper burial, wanting their bodies left for the crows. Davion had buried the bodies himself, engaging the aid of several other soldiers with similar sentiments. The bodies were buried next to each other, on the hill where their other comrades rested. After that, he would climb the hill once a week, paying his respects to them.

Davion went over to Gondar's tomb and took out a small wooden figurine. It was the shape of a sleeping dragon, beautifully crafted, the detail exquisite.

"For you my friend, a toy popular among the children." he whispered, "Thank you. For everything…" His eyes strayed to all the headstones.

_Thank you all._

He studied the graves. Then he understood.

"Sven battled Leoric and defeated him. He was like a God Your Highness, nobody could stand against him."

"Sven was always brave. He was strength itself," she replied.

Davion turned back to the Princess, a shy smile on his lips. He reached into his bag and took out a small flask.

"I have here my wife's famed apple juice. Would you like some Lady? There we can tell stories for our friends to hear. They shall be glad I think."

The Princess saw the flask in his hand, and smiled. And when she did, the world for a became a much more beautiful place. There was peace here, Davion believed, peace that could be found nowhere else.

"And what stories shall we tell?" she asked.

He opened the flask, releasing the musky scent of apples.

"Of heroes Lady," he said, "We shall tell of heroes."


End file.
